Petoria and the Battle for Liberty
by Salmagundi
Summary: Family Guy Crossover Peter Griffin declares his house its own nation and the country of Petoria is born. God help us all.
1. Chapter 1

Petoria and the Battle for Liberty

-

"...What?" America stared at the fat dark-haired man that was standing just outside his door, lips twisted in a slight grimace. He hadn't been expecting someone to just randomly show up at his door, demanding to talk with him.

"I said, I want my freedom!" The man crossed his arms, his multiple chins jutting out as he met America's eyes with what he thought was an intimidating glower.

"Umm..." America dithered for a second, still trying to figure out what the hell this lunatic was doing on his doorstep, "Look, Mr... uh..."

"Petoria." Dear god, could this get any more ludicrous?

America raised a hand to rub at his temples. "You want to be your own nation, right?"

"And I'll fight you for my freedom, like Chuck Norris fought Hitler during the American Revolution!" The man made a gesture that might have been mimicking some kind of kung-fu move... or else he was having a seizure. Either way, there was something disturbing about watching all of those jiggling rolls of fat. America gagged a little.

"That doesn't even make se..." He paused mid-word, then sighed at the futility. "Look, fine. Whatever. You're your own nation. Happy?"

"Ehehehehe" The man gave what was possibly the stupidest sounding laugh in the history of human civilzation. "I did it! I won my freedom. Take that Hitler!" He reached out to high five Chuck Norris, who had appeared out of nowhere for some unholy reason. A fist came out from Chuck Norris's beard, making contact with Petoria's face. The fat nation(?) fell to the ground, rolling around and crying.

America shut the door and slowly locked all the bolts.

-End-

Okay, this was total crack!fic for the Hetalia kink meme. Don't blame me, I just wrote it!


	2. Chapter 2

Petoria and the Battle for Liberty (2)

-

It was four in the morning and America's phone was ringing. And ringing. And ringing.

America groaned, rolling over and dragging a pillow over his head. The phone stopped after a few more rings and the room fell silent. He waited a few more minutes, then let the pillow fall aside, curling up under his blanket.

The cellphone on his bedside table started to play the Imperial March, and America stared forlornly at the ceiling, sighing softly before he slowly reached out to pick it up. He flipped it open with an easy flick of his wrist. "Why do you hate me, England?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the line before England's voice finally came through, "I'd answer that, but we don't have all day." America shifted, preparing to fling the cell across the room, but he was drawn up short by what England said next. "I just want to know why there's a fat guy on my doorstep claiming he's your son."

Thunk. The phone fell from his suddenly limp fingers and hit the side of the bed, bouncing off to land open on the floor.

"-and then he started talking to me in this ridiculous attempt at a British accent and called me grandfather-"

America felt little cracks starting to seep across his brain. His hand twitched.

"-well excuse me. 'Granddaddy', apparently. Good God, I don't know your ridiculous vernacular! I say, don't touch tha-" CRASH

The sounds of things breaking came loud and clear over the phone, but America didn't even flinch.

"Oh for heaven's... Spotted Dick is a dish, not an STD!"

Twitch. Twitch.

"America, I demand you come here and remove this lunatic!"

There was a thunk as America fell over, rolling off the bed and hitting the floor headfirst to lie there in a twitching, whimpering heap.

"America? Are you even listening? America!"

-

Not really any Petoria this chapter, but I needed to have America brain-breakage. He will be in the next part though!


	3. Chapter 3

Petoria and the Battle for Liberty (3)

-

"What did you say your population was?" Sealand stared at the fat nation, eyes wide. His expression could have been horror or just plain awe.

"Huh? Oh yeah." Petoria looked up from his plate, slurping up the remainder of the food in a fashion that proved his relationship to America. "Four." He paused a moment before adding, "And Meg. But she's... hm..." His expression went bland. "Four."

"Four." Sealand repeated, a wondering look on his face. "And you're actually a nation? Like officially?" Was it really possible? This was exactly what Sealand had been trying to accomplish for years and this fat, tactless Petoria had already reached the goal that had always seemed so unobtainable.

"Yup!" Petoria crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the table as the waiter glared at him.

"H...how did you...?" Sealand sputtered, slapping both hands down on the table and causing the dishes to clatter slightly as he pushed himself to his feet. The move earned him a similarly dirty look from the waiter, who was hovering near their table like a vulture. "I've never even gotten anyone on the G8 to talk to me!"

"Yeah... they do seem like assholes." Petoria scratched at the side of his neck. "Especially that England guy."

Sealand bristled at the mention of that name. "England is full of himself," he spat, not bothering to hide the venom of his tone. He was certain that England had been the one to warn the other nations against him, beginning his long struggle to pull himself out of the mire of obscurity. One fist clenched at his dinner fork, holding it like a weapon. It was a very good thing for England that he was nowhere in the vicinity at the moment.

Petoria stared at Sealand for a few moment, then laughed, that weird 'ehehehehe' that tore through the small country's skull like a jackhammer. He gaped at Petoria in outrage, sputtering, then he flung his fork across the table, fully intending to skewer the other nation with it. His aim was far from the best, flying wide. Even so, his fork found a target, burying itself in the feathered rump of a giant yellow chicken sitting at a table halfway across the restaurant.

The bird's eyes narrowed as he turned to look at the two of them, gaze lighting upon Petoria who was laughing raucously at the whole mess. Without a single squawk, the chicken lunged at Petoria, slugging him in the face. Chairs scattered, Sealand scrambling to get out of the way as the two of them engaged in a brawl, grappling with each other.

A table went flying across the room – Petoria grabbing a wine bottle from the nearest waiter's tray and smashing it across the avian's head. The bird slammed his wings against Petoria, pecking at the fat nation's face a few times before grabbing the nearest patron and using her as a club. There was a loud crash as they made their way out of the restaurant and into the street, cars screeching to a halt. Sealand ran to look out the window, gaping as the two combatants were thrown over the hood of a car. The sounds of battle gradually faded as the two made their way into the distance.

It took him a moment to realize that all eyes were on him, in the absence of his former dinner partner. Sealand ducked his head and straightened up the table as best he could, sinking into his chair and wishing he could disappear. His wish transmuted itself into wanting to have Petoria there to strangle as soon as they presented him with the bill.

An hour later, he was scrubbing dishes, swiping the rag in sharp, jerky strokes and muttering under his breath about these lousy, overpriced restaurants. He could have fed the entire population of his country for a month on what this place was charging!

Raising the dish to inspect it, he subsequently dropped it as he felt a hand tapping at his shoulder. "Agh!" Whirling around, he saw Petoria standing there, bruised and bloody, one eye swollen shut, his body covered with scrapes and gashes... not to mention feathers. Yellow feathers, all over the place. It took a few seconds to get his pounding heart back under control, then he looked down to see the shards of the plate scattered across the floor. Another addition to his bill... great. "What are you here for?"

"I was thinking-" Petoria began, smirking – no apology, no explanation of what the hell had just happened - "We should show them not to mess with us little guys."

Sigh. "And how are we going to do that?"

Petoria grinned and Sealand regretted the question immediately. He was not going to like this answer... "We're going to conquer.... what's that country... with the hockey and maple syrup and crap?"

It took a moment or two for him to realize exactly who Petoria was talking about. That country that looked like America. He had a bear or something... "Canada?"

"That's right! We'll show those Canadians!"

"Show them what?" Oh, this was crazy. They had a combined population of fourteen. "We don't even have any weapons... and I still have to do all these damn dishes..." This last was mostly under his breath.

"But we have Chuck Norris!" Petoria laughed, and Sealand turned, letting out a yelp as he realized Chuck Norris was standing beside him. Chuck Norris didn't wash the dishes – he scowled at them and they cleaned themselves out of sheer terror. "See? We'll be unstoppable!"

"I... guess..."

"And after we take over... that one country, we can egg England's house."

Bingo. "I'm in."

They shook on it. Then Chuck Norris punched them both with his beard-fist as a sign of solidarity.

The quest for global domination had begun.

-

Pure crack. I couldn't resist the Petoria and Sealand team up. Heaven help us all.


	4. Chapter 4

Petoria and the Battle for Liberty (4)

Canada was starting to feel a little unnerved. He picked at his plate of poutines, darting a glance over his shoulder to the other side of the Burger King. There was a fat man there, dressed in a stereotypical chinese outfit - complete with a straw hat. The man was slurping down a milkshake, seemingly innocuous.

Except that the guy was following him.

He'd already seen him at the movie theatre wearing a top hat and a monocle. And at the supermarket in a sombrero. And just outside the window of the ROM dressed in ---.

Canada pushed his food aside, carefully getting up and throwing the remainder of the poutines in the trash before making his way slowly toward the door, trying not to attract too much attention. He fidgeted as he stood at the bus stop, fingering the loonies in his pocket. He tensed as he heard footsteps approaching behind him - eyes flitting to the ground where he could see the slow approach of a shadow. The shadow of a fat man... holding something in one hand. Sweat beaded on Canada's brow, chills running up his spine.

The arrival of the bus saved him, and he stepped inside, grateful for the crowd. His heart was pounding as he took his seat, looking around rapidly and feeling a wash of relief as he saw no sign of the fat man.

The bus stop was only a short distance from his house, but he hurried the rest of the way, tugging his coat around him and ducking his head a little. As soon as he entered the house, he locked the door behind him, leaning against it and gasping a few times.

"Who?" Kumajiro padded up to him, his fuzzy white head bumping against the nation's knee.

"C-canada." He shivered as he picked up the bear, heading into the sitting room. Tossing a few logs into the fireplace, he set about getting a warm fire going, finding himself beginning to relax at last. He warmed his hands a minute before stepping back and turning to head back in his chair.

He was there. The fat man. He was sitting in Canada's chair.

Canada gave a howl, scrambling for the poker, stumbling as he tripped over Kumajiro. His back smacked into the wall and he trembled as the fat man came close. The fat man held out a hand and Canada felt his knees buckle. He passed out.

-

"What's his problem?" Petoria asked, looking down at the sandwich. "See, now that's just rude. And after we got him this sandwich too."

"So, let me get this straight-" Sealand asked, between bites of his own sub. "-you're really sure you don't have a Chinese twin somewhere?"

"Nope!"

Petoria looked at the unconscious nation, a slow smile spreading across his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black sharpie. Sealand tilted his head trying to get a look at what Petoria was doing, but the other nation's substantial bulk blocked off his view. Petoria straightened up, dusting off his hands and looking triumphant. Slowly, Sealand put his sandwich aside and walked over.

"...well... that was easier than I expected..." He remarked blandly, examining the crude picture of the Petorian flag which was scribbled across Canada's forehead.

"ehehehehe!" Petoria started to draw a mustache and Sealand felt his fingers twitch.

"Hey - let me draw something next!"


	5. Chapter 5

There was a knock at the door, a series of quick raps and America looked up from his comic book, blinking owlishly. Slowly he got up and walked over to the door, peering through the peephole to be sure it wasn't Petoria, back to harass him some more. Seeing it was just England, he undid the bolts and opened the door, freezing as he realized England wasn't the only one on his doorstep.

America took a step backward, the combined glares of the other nations on him. His hesitation left enough of an opening to allow England to push inside the house. "England, what-"

"Shut up, idiot!" England snapped, gesturing for the others to enter and they did, their movements furtive. France shut the door behind him, the last in line, and the click of the locks sent a cold shiver up America's spine.

"What is it you needed me for?" He swallowed, trying not to betray his growing uncertainty.

"You need to do something about that _verdammt_ Petoria!" Germany thundered in a voice like the coming of Armageddon.

"Ve~ he replaced all of my spaghetti with elastics!" Italy whined, holding out a bowl of the tomato-covered rubber bands as tears trickled down his cheeks.

"He, like, put hair dye in all of my shampoo bottles. That's just not cool." Poland put his hands on his hips, streaks of pink standing out, bright and gaudy, against the blonde of his hair. He blinked as he caught sight of his own reflection in the mirror above the mantle. "Hm... you know, actually, I think it matches my wardrobe now! 3"

"He shaved my cats!" The normally unflappable Greece howled, holding up a white kitten whose entire body was shaved to look like a poodle. The poor cat mewled pathetically.

Austria was quivering with barely repressed fury, violet eyes glittering behind his glasses. "He and that brat, Sealand, dumped jelly inside my piano!" His fists clenched and Hungary rested a hand on his shoulder.

"They also cut holes in all of my clothes," She murmured, tugging at Austria's borrowed shirt, fretfully.

Even Prussia, who would normally have been gloating at the others' misfortunes, seemed subdued. "It was hilarious until I realized they'd one-upped me," he grumbled. "Now I have to think of something even more awesome than normal to get my mojo back."

America shook his head, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking at each of them. There was not a happy face in the lot. Estonia was holding out his laptop, where a picture of Petoria's substantial derrière had replaced his official website. Lithuania was sporting a "kick me" sign on his back and sighing in a long-suffering fashion. China cradled his Shinatty doll, the head having gone missing. Russia was still smiling, nothing immediately amiss, but his eyes burned holes in the side of America's skull.

France stood there, arms crossed, and America sighed. "What did Petoria do to you?"

A slight scoff and a haughty upward tilt of the head. "He offends my gentlemanly sensibilities."

"How's that?"

"As you may have noticed, Amerique, Petoria is not... shall we say... attractive. And his fashion sense is terrible." Standing slightly to one side, England rolled his eyes but said nothing as he approached America.

"Petoria is one of yours, America. Stopping him is your responsibility."

America scowled, "Why is it my fault? It's not like he was actually a colony of mine or something! If you have a problem with him, take care of it yourselves!"

"This is not negotiable, America," England droned, his voice bland, but the flicker of fear in his eyes clued America in.

"You're afraid of Chuck Norris, aren't you?"

"O...of course not, you git!" England sputtered, "But why should we have to fight him?"

"You are! You totally are!" America crowed, crossing his arms and straightening up triumphantly, "And you should be! Only a real hero could beat Chuck Norris!"

"The beard..." Latvia whimpered, the three Baltics huddling together in the background and shaking. "...the beard..."

England's brows furrowed, arms crossing. "By your own logic, you should be the one to stop their rampage. You _are_ the hero, after all." The sarcasm was heavy in his voice, but America ignored it.

"I would, but I have some very important hero-y duties to do elsewhere." He said, jamming his hands in his pockets. "And besides, isn't Sealand your responsibility?"

"You flaming fool!" England raged, "What could possibly be more important than stopping their reign of terror?!"

"It's just a few harmless pranks," America deferred. "It's really nothing to get worked up over."

"But you were the one who was saying..." England trailed off, staring at America for a long moment. "You're afraid of Chuck Norris too!" He shouted, "Bloody hypocrite!"

America opened his mouth, with no idea what he was planning to say, when there was a soft knock at the front door. "Who could that be? Everyone's already here..." He opened the door and stared blankly. "Who are you?"

A sigh. "I'm Canada..." The blank looks continued for a moment longer, then Canada nudged his way inside, clutching his bear close to his chest. "I'm sorry to interrupt, I know this is an important meeting, but..." He hesitated, "Petoria wanted me to bring you a message..." One trembling hand held out a piece of paper.

America took it, unfolding it as the other nations tried to peer over his shoulder and get a look. There was a long silence, the paper slipping from America's suddenly nerveless fingers. "Oh god... why would... oh... ugh... why would anyone do something like that?!"

England growled, "Idiot. Don't you know a declaration of war when you see one?" He looked at the gathered nations who looked back at him, their faces grim. "He has to be stopped, America. Before it's too late."

Fingers clenched into fists as America's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "That's right. No more Mr. Nice Hero..." His blue eyes flashed. "To the meeting room!"

They filed out of the room, leaving Canada standing there, looking miserable with the sharpie still standing out on his cheeks and forehead. He sighed as he reached down and picked up the photo, looking at it forlornly. Leave it to his idiot brother to be offended by a picture of Ronald McDonald holding a piece of asparagus.

Sigh.


	6. Chapter 6

Petoria and the Battle for Liberty

-o-

The nations were gathered again; all the same familiar faces sitting around the same familiar table but the usual chatter and banter, the useless arguments, they were all gone. For one inglorious moment, the entire world was united in a single purpose.

Now if only they could decide what to do.

"I saw we launch a full-scale assault!" Germany roared, the nations nearest to him recoiling back as far as they could go. It had been a long time indeed since anyone had seen the nation in this sort of a rage.

"Ve... we could starve them out?" Italy was already tearing up at the very suggestion, the worst he had to offer.

"We should seize their finances." Austria countered, "It would be the most efficient way." Somewhere to his right, Switzerland nodded a few times before remembering that he and Austria still weren't getting along.

"Seize all of their assets, aru." China suggested.

"Wait. What assets?" England grimaced. "They've got nothing to their name but that hideous excuse for a house!"

"Burn it!" It took them all a moment to realise this had come from Latvia. An awkward pause followed.

Finally America cleared his throat and spoke. "It's my country, so I get to decide." And, when they all stared at him dubiously, he scoffed. "What? You all were the ones who forced me to become involved. So now we'll use my plan!"

"Oh, this will be bloody good." England muttered. "What 'heroic plan' have you come up with then? What scintillatingly thoughtful scheme have you concocted. Hurry up and be out with it so we can get it over with."

America missed the sarcasm, beaming as he strode up to the white board with the crudely drawn picture of a house on it. "My plan is simple. In less than six hours, we will be ready to launch."

"Launch?" England scowled. He wasn't the only one. "Launch what?"

A smirk at this, a confident one. "We'll be launching Operation 'Blow the crap out of your house', of course."

A long silence, then... "Not exactly subtle, but it's good enough." The nations leaned forward as America began to detail 'The Plan', such as it was.

It was pretty self explanatory. In six hours, they were going to blow up Petoria's house.

A subtle plan indeed.

-o-

The two micronations sat on the couch in Petoria's house, passing a bag of chips back and forth between them. Petoria flicked through the channels with a bored expression. Sealand kicked his feet against the side of the couch, eyes half-closed, zoning at the useless babble from the television.

And then he blinked. "W-wait a minute! Go back!"

A grunt from Petoria, the channels still flipping, then Sealand leaned over and grabbed the remote. Petoria whined as Sealand flicked abck to the channel that had caught his eye. The faces of Tom Tucker and Diane Simmons filled the screen.

"That's right, Diane. The United States miltary has decided to move forward in their plans to deal with the rogue nation, Petoria. We now go live to Ollie Williams for the rest of the story. So, what are they planning Ollie?"

"Blow it up!"

"And what advice might you have for any residents of Petoria who might incidentally be watching this broadcast?"

"Get yo ass out!"

"Thanks Ollie."

Sealand yelped as the image of the house they were sitting in filled the screen, surrounded by tanks. He rushed over to peek out the window. Yeah, those were tanks. "P-petoria..."

Petoria was laughing at the TV when Sealand scrambled back to the couch. "They're going to blow up that guy's house." Petoria snickered, pointing at the television set. Sealand stared at him, gaping a little.

"That's where we are right now!"

The laughing stopped. Petoria's expression went thoughtful. "This is just like that time the other countries decided to bomb us because we took over that one place."

A long pause, then Sealand grabbed Petoria by the front of his shirt. "You can't flashback us! **This is that time!**"

Blink. "It is?"

"Yes!" Sealand ran back to the window. "Oh god... oh god... I knew I should've just done those dishes..."

Petoria looked out past him, expression bland and deadpan. "Yeah, those are tanks."

Sealand stared at him, horrified, then slowly made his way back to flop on the couch. "We are so dead."

Petoria patted him on the shoulder. "Well, we still have our secret weapon! Chuck Norris!" At the sound of his name being used in vain, Chuck Norris emerged from the other room. "The three of us together can totally take them, like those three hundred guys took on a million Persians!" Sealand was in the midst of opening his mouth to protest when they got dragged into a flashback.

_A couple of Greek guys standing in front of an army of Persians. One of them is on a cell phone. "Of course I'm going to pick up something on the way home. I said I would. No. No I don't think it'll take too long, there's only a million of them. Yeah. Yeah. The Persian Army. Yeah. Chicken? Eh, not again. What about beef? Beef, okay? Okay. Oh, honey, honey, gotta go, war's starting up again. Yeah. See you at eight? Awesome." He hung up the phone and snorted. "Women."_

_"Yeah."_

_"I swear, she's always on me about everything. It's always Leonidas this, and Cleomones that. I mean seriously."_

_"Yeah."_

_"I swear, tonight, I'm so gonna be dining in hell." _

_"Yeah."_

_"Anyway, let's do this thing!"_

Sealand stumbled as they pulled out of the flashback. "I'll never get used to that." Then he furrowed his brows. "Wait... was that the Spartans?"

"Yeah."

Blue eyes went wide. "But didn't the Spartans get obliterated?"

The two of them looked at each other. Then they looked at Chuck Norris. Then they looked out the window.

"Aw, crap."

-o-

A/N: Just two more chapters!


End file.
